Jane Campion remembers Sam Neill: ‘He was radiating peace, beaming love’

Sam. So effortlessly handsome, and that rare thing in New Zealand and Australia: a movie star.

My hands actually shook when I met him at a cafe in Vulcan Lane, Auckland, to discuss rehearsals. He had arrived, we all had, to start pre-production on The Piano. He was to play the repressed and violent Stewart, the one who would chop off his wife’s finger. Who but Sam could play that part, could surprise with that part?

Sam was kind, committed and supportive. He looked after me and actually everyone on the set. He stomped through mud, organised dinners, bossed me around at rushes and told me off if he thought I was letting the lighting get too dark. I loved him as Stewart. I can remember gasping as he pulled Holly [Hunter] out of his hut, into the streaming rain and mud, with a force I had not expected but at once realised the story needed. He already knew, Stewart’s jealousy was terrifying.

Sam and his then wife Noriko invited me to their Queenstown house one summer and showed me the intense beauty of New Zealand’s deep south. It was the beginning of my family’s love affair with the south – the lakes, the mountains, the beech forests.

As time went on we sometimes confided in one another, shared our life stories, talked like girls and discussed prep for the end of life. Part of Sam’s response to his cancer diagnosis was to write a brilliant, entertaining memoir and he wanted me to check The Piano chapter. Turns out it was a lonely time for him, but he never showed it – except perhaps on screen.

I saw Sam at the beginning of this year with his partner Heather and my and his friend Griz. We stayed the night at his beautiful winery and celebrated what seemed like impossible good fortune; that he was cancer-free and could now imagine new chapters. At that time I was struck by a gentleness and peacefulness, a grace that was all about him.

Then only a few months later he was suddenly in hospital at St Vincent’s in Sydney. I dropped in with coffee and food. Rachel Ward was there too and we all joked and chatted. The sense of love in and around Sam had intensified. We didn’t discuss illness, it seemed a waste of beautiful time.

On the last occasion I saw Sam he was still in hospital. I brought him a little watercolour set from the Macquarie art school shop because he said time was hard to fill … he was thrilled to crack out a few dreamy sketches. We talked about the incredible Split Enz reunion concert that I had seen and he had followed on audio from his bed. Our goodbye was a kiss, followed by him thanking me for coming by, for taking the trouble. Did we know it would be the last time? I didn’t think about it, I don’t think he did either.

In these last few months, each time I saw Sam, it was an intoxicating experience. He was radiating peace, beaming love. He didn’t seem to care about anything. He was just gently, gracefully there – but now he isn’t. Thank you for everything Sam. I miss you.